


Jumpers

by Biza



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Humor, M/M, Multi, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 20:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10498821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biza/pseuds/Biza
Summary: As it turns out, Harry’s choice of jumpers have more meaning than Draco first realizes. A Harry/Twins/Draco foursome PWP, with a touch of sweet plot.





	

Draco sipped at his coffee, ostensibly reading the _Daily Prophet_. Over the top edge of the paper, however, he was surreptitiously watching the three people currently stumbling into the room. He blinked slowly as he took in Potter’s appearance.

The Prat Who Lived was wearing a bloody Weasley jumper over his ridiculously large denims. It brought new meaning to the Weasley jumper, though, as it clearly wasn’t his. Unless the “F” on the front stood for fuckwit.

He supposed it did answer the question regarding which one Potter was fucking. Maybe. He stole another look over the top of the paper. All three of them looked rather ragged. Not unusual for Potter, but generally the matching pair were obnoxiously cheerful in the morning. Any time of day, really.

Not this morning, though. None of them had yet to speak a word. A few grunts served to both ask and answer questions as they gathered coffee and toast before plonking themselves into chairs. Draco wasn’t certain who he wanted to hex more, Potter or the matching pair.

“Rough night?” he found himself sneering the words at them.

Potter blinked at him owlishly, as if he’d just realized there was someone else already in the room. “Er, yeah,” he muttered. “Morning, Malfoy.”

The matching pair absently waved toast at him in greeting. Draco clenched his jaw, but as he glared at them disdainfully, he gradually recognized that maybe his first impression had been wrong. They certainly didn’t appear to be in a state of post-coital bliss. All three faces were lined with tension and Potter did appear to be even more worse for wear than normal.

A falling out, maybe? Except, Potter was still ensconced between the matching pair and they were sitting far too close together for Draco’s peace of mind. The bloody prat was probably fucking the both of them.

Merlin, he hated Potter.

Of all the things Potter had done to him over the years, causing him to be jealous of Weasleys had to be the worst. First the Weasel, then the Weaselette, and now the matching pair.

He scowled unseeingly at his paper. Potter had an extremely unhealthy obsession with red.

He squeezed his eyes shut in realization. And he had an extremely unhealthy obsession with green.

Merlin, he hated Potter.

~*~*~*~

Draco stood in the doorway of the drawing room and frowned at the occupants. Ten o’clock in the morning and Potter and the matching pair were sprawled lazily over the furniture. Not that it was an unusual sight in itself, but generally they were at least pretending to do _something_.

Now? There was nothing. No pretending to read or research. No spirited discussion upon which Draco could eavesdrop. No re-enactments of a Quidditch game.

“Who died?” he asked, eyes widening marginally as Potter flinched horribly. The matching pair sent identical scowls in his direction, an unfamiliar and unpleasant expression on their normally cheerful faces.

“ _Did_ someone die?”

He’d not heard anything. But then, most of his news did come through Potter or the rare occasions when Snape visited. No one else willingly spoke to him. Well, the matching pair didn’t treat him as a pariah, which was probably why they were the ones assigned to guard duty, but he didn’t care about them. Not that he cared about Potter, either. He suppressed a sigh. His Slytherin tendencies reached new heights when he attempted to lie to himself.

“Loads of people have died,” Potter said flatly. “Voldemort decided he should remind me of them last night.”

Oh. Visions, then. No wonder Potter looked like shite. Deaths. Which meant Potter had probably been forced to watch Snape’s memories regarding Dumbledore’s death again.

He turned to leave. Potter wasn’t going to want to have him around for awhile.

“Wait!” Potter exclaimed.

Draco halted, but he didn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to go,” Potter said quietly. “I’m just . . . tired.”

Frowning, Draco turned back around. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but he didn’t dare. On the top of that list was the burning question of whether Potter _wanted_ him to stay or not.

He knew Potter had every right to truly hate him, but for all intents and purposes, Potter had apparently forgiven him for what he’d done. Hell, there’d been an unbearably stilted conversation when he’d explained and apologized and Potter had actually _said_ he understood. It didn’t mean Draco believed that.

How could Potter possibly understand when Draco himself didn’t fully understand all he’d gone through? It had been months and he still found it unbelievable to be where he was, hiding out on the Light side. With Potter. And redheads.

“It’s quiet in here today,” Potter said. He nodded to the book Draco was holding, a ghost of a smile crossing his features. “You’ll be able to read in peace, without having to threaten us.” He paused, that smile flashing again briefly. “Although, I think you enjoy threatening us.”

Draco searched his features, looking for any sign that Potter was lying. There was only a sincere earnestness accompanying the underlying sadness and exhaustion. He cast a glance at the matching pair. Their expressions had relaxed again, watching him lazily.

“Come on in, Malfoy,” George said.

“We’ll try not to disturb you too much,” Fred added, a glint of mischievousness forming in his eyes. Draco found that oddly reassuring in its normalness.

Nothing more was said as Draco entered the room and settled into a chair with his book. Positioned, of course, where he could keep an eye on the other occupants. A half hour later, he wasn’t surprised to find himself the only one awake in the room. He snorted softly. So much for the hints of mischief.

Sprawled sideways in a couple of armchairs with their long legs dangling over one side and heads resting on the other, the matching pair managed to actually look innocent for once. Believably innocent. And their slack mouths and low snores indicated that they were out cold. Draco could stare at Potter without witnesses.

Because Potter was out cold as well. Stretched out comfortably on the couch, his soft snores barely audible. Potter didn’t look innocent, though. Potter looked like he was simply waiting for a lover to come take him. Arms were thrown back behind his head, one hand loosely grasping his wrist. They could easily be bound that way.

When he’d slid down off the arm of the couch to lie flat on his back, the jumper had ridden up, leaving a fair expanse of abdomen exposed. One leg was bent at the knee and rested against the back of the couch.

Draco wasn’t fond of the overly large denims, but considering that Potter wasn’t wearing a belt, he was discovering one of their advantages. It would be so easy to plunge a hand inside without even bothering with the fastenings. Potter’s position had left a gap and enticing shadows between denim and skin.

Managing to tear his gaze away from Potter’s midsection, Draco studied his face. He’d not seen Potter so relaxed. Ever. Maybe it was the lack of glasses that made the difference. Potter had obviously intended to go to sleep, because he’d casually tossed them on the table behind him.

That fact alone amazed Draco. Potter had essentially asked him to stay and knowingly relaxed enough to fall asleep in his presence. Didn’t Potter realize how vulnerable that made him? He _knew_ Potter realized, so why had he done it? Did that mean Potter trusted him?

Draco spared a glance for the matching pair. Surprisingly, they’d fallen asleep as well. Weren’t they supposed to be guarding Potter from danger? Did this mean that they didn’t consider Draco a danger any longer?

Too many fucking questions. Best to simply go back to studying Potter’s flat stomach and those enticing shadows while he could.

~*~*~*~

“Shhhh, Draco’s asleep.”

 _Draco? Did Potter just call me Draco?_ He kept his eyes shut and tried to keep his breathing even. He had been asleep and he was kicking himself for that fact. But he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity for eavesdropping now.

“C’mon, Harry,” said Fred. “If he wakes up, he’d probably enjoy watching anyway.”

“He wouldn’t enjoy watching you . . . oh fuck,” Harry ended on a moan.

_What the bloody fuck are they doing?!_

“It’d be good to make the prat jealous,” George said. “Maybe he’d finally make a move.”

“I keep telling you, he doesn’t _want_ to make a move,” Harry said, sounding rather breathless, as well as exasperated. “Hates me, remember? Oh gods. Fred, stop that.”

_Stop what?!_ Never in his life had Draco had to fight so hard to keep his eyes shut. He wanted to hear what the hell they were saying, but it exceeded the desire to see what they were doing by only a slim margin.

But they weren’t talking now. It sounded suspiciously like they were kissing. But who exactly was doing the kissing? They couldn’t all three be kissing at once, could they? And what was Fred doing? Draco didn’t think he’d been stopped from whatever he’d been doing to make Potter moan.

“Going to miss this,” Fred murmured.

“Don’t stop,” Potter protested.

“Thought you wanted me to stop.” Draco could hear the smugness. The git had Potter right where he wanted him.

“Ah, hell,” Potter moaned. “Yes, stop. Gods, this isn’t what I want him to see.”

“But you look so hot like this,” George said. “I think Malfoy would be very impressed.”

“To see Fred sucking my cock?” Potter said. “I don’t think so.”

Draco hadn’t _thought_ he’d be impressed with that, but his cock didn’t appear to be averse to the idea, twitching in his trousers even as his brain scrambled to keep up with the conversation. Maybe it was just the sound of Potter saying the word cock.

“ _I_ like watching Fred suck your cock,” George said. “He’s quite good at it, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yessss,” Potter hissed. “No. Fuck! Fred, _stop_ that. We can’t do this here.”

“You need to relax, Harry,” Fred said, apparently coming up for air again.

“How can I relax?” Potter asked, his voice coming out in a squeak. “Malfoy’s just right over there and he could wake up at any moment. If he finds out I’ve been fucking you two, I’ll never have a chance at him.”

Potter wanted a chance at him? Potter _wanted_ him? Oh, finding this out was worth not being able to see what was going on.

“What’s wrong with us?” Fred asked indignantly.

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Potter said. “Oh hell. You know what I meant.”

“Yes, we know,” George said, sounding amused. “We’re just fuck partners. You loooovvve Malfoy.”

“I don’t _love_ him,” Potter protested.

“You only want to fuck him, then?” Fred asked.

“Well, I, uh,” Potter floundered. “He’s fucking hot and you both know it.” 

“’Course he’s hot,” George said. “But you want the entire package.”

“I like him, all right?” Potter said defensively.

“Hey,” George said softly. More kissing sounds. “We know you like him and we don’t care. We’ll help you get him.”

Potter sighed heavily. “He doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, you know.”

“Yes, he does,” George said dryly. “The git can’t keep his eyes off you.”

Draco wanted to protest that he was winning the battle of keeping his eyes off Potter at the moment. Although, it was extremely difficult. He wasn’t given time to ponder the fact that they’d noticed his obsession.

“Really?” Potter said hopefully. “No, you two are just fucking with me again.”

“Well, I’d like to be fucking with you, but you’re being a little uncooperative,” Fred said.

Potter made a strange little whimpering sound. “You’re not helping.”

“You want me to fuck you.” The smugness was back in full force.

“Yes, but not here,” Potter hissed. “Fuck, Fred!”

“Did he do that little twist thing with his tongue?” George asked curiously.

“Yesssss,” Potter moaned.

“I agree with Fred,” George said. “I’m going to really miss this when you do end up with Malfoy. I wonder if the git is into casual sex.”

“I don’t even know if he’s into boys,” Potter said, punctuating his breathless words with a sharp inhale.

“He is,” George said confidently. “He’s a rather possessive little bugger, though. Doubt he’d take too kindly to letting us have the use of your body now and then.”

_Potter is mine._ Draco was feeling downright light-headed with the knowledge. Although, the light-headedness might have more to do with all the blood that had settled in his groin rather than his brain.

With the _Potter is mine_ mantra repeating in his head, Draco risked cracking his eyes open. And immediately met the knowing gaze of George. _Fuck!_ With a mischievous smile, George turned back to Potter and kissed him.

Draco stared. Potter was still stretched out on the couch as he had been earlier, but now he had a Weasley twin kneeling between his legs sucking his cock and one kneeling on the floor beside him, snogging the life out of him.

It was the hottest thing Draco had ever seen. And he didn’t even particularly like Weasleys. He didn’t have anything against casual sex, but he was going to have to re-think his views of the matching pair. They might be handy to keep around after all as he had a sudden appreciation for double the pleasure. Potter was undoubtedly enjoying himself.

George pulled back after a minute, causing a whimper of protest. “I bet you’re fantasizing about Malfoy right now, aren’t you, Harry?”

“I’m not,” Harry protested. “I just want to come.”

Fred popped his mouth off Potter’s cock, leaving Potter groaning his frustration. “Tell us, Harry,” he said. “Tell us what you want Malfoy to do to you.”

“Or what you want to do to him,” George said.

“Right now, I want someone to finish me off,” Potter snarled. “And I don’t care who it is.”

“You want Malfoy to suck you off?” George asked innocently.

Potter’s angry red cock twitched in response. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned. “You two are trying to kill me. Just quit teasing and get back to it.”

“Do you imagine yourself ordering Malfoy around, or do you picture yourself begging?” Fred asked curiously.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, Potter moaned loudly.

“Keep that up and you’ll wake Malfoy,” George said, casting a wink at his brother. Fred glanced quickly at Draco and grinned widely upon seeing him already awake.

“Fuck,” Potter cursed, albeit much quieter. “Why are you torturing me?”

“Because you’re so pretty when you get worked up like this,” George said with a cheeky grin.

“Fuck you,” Potter snapped. “I’m not _pretty_.”

Draco had to agree with George. Potter was gorgeous.

“You are,” Fred said. “Now tell us what you think about Malfoy and I’ll let you come.”

“Not here,” Potter hissed.

“Yes, here,” George said firmly. “Not letting you go until you tell us.”

“Why?” Potter asked plaintively.

Fred licked Potter’s cock from base to tip before swirling his tongue around the head.

“Please,” Potter pleaded. “I can beg if that’s what you want.”

Potter didn’t seem to know what the hell he wanted. One second he was trying to get them to stop and the next he was pleading for more. Draco understood. He desperately wanted to get involved, and yet, he wanted to hear what Potter had to say.

“Tell us, Harry,” Fred murmured with his lips against Potter’s cock.

Potter shuddered. “Gods, I want him,” he moaned, giving in. “I want him to fuck me. I want him in me. I want to feel him close to me. Hell, I just want to kiss him. I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like. I want to give myself to him and let him do whatever he wants to me. I just want to be his.”

“Wow, you do have it bad for him, don’t you?” George said, sounding impressed.

“Just shut up and let me come.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Fred sat up. “I’ve got something better in mind.”

“What could be better than coming?” Potter protested. His eyes widened in alarm when he caught sight of Draco approaching. “Oh, fuck,” he breathed. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Draco arched a brow in amusement. “It’s not you taking advantage of the matching pair’s sexuality to get off while you’re pining away for me?”

Potter blinked, his green eyes swirling with a myriad of emotions. “Um.”

Fred and George were sniggering quietly, simply observing the interaction. Potter was clearly feeling uncertain about the situation, particularly since he was the only one naked in the room, but Draco was feeling confident. Potter wanted him. He’d not only heard Potter say it, but now he could plainly see it in Potter’s hungry, desperate expression. Potter was too aroused to hide the desire he was feeling, despite his confusion at the sudden turn of events.

“Can I kiss you, Harry?”

Lust flared brighter in those green eyes. “You want to?”

In answer, Draco kneeled beside the couch, George generously backing out of the way to give him room. Not that George went very far, but Draco found he didn’t really mind. It was much easier to feel generous towards them once he’d figured out they weren’t trying to steal what belonged to him. His heart beat just a little faster as he realized once again that Harry was his.

“Mine.”

Harry’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes not once leaving Draco’s. He didn’t say anything to deny or confirm Draco’s claim, but it was plain to see that he wanted it. He wanted _Draco_. Draco decided to curse himself later for being blind and finally kissed Harry as he’d been wanting to for so long.

For only a few seconds was the kiss chaste and tentative. Harry shuddered and twined his arms around Draco’s neck pulling him in for deeper kisses, opening his mouth and thrusting his tongue up into Draco’s mouth. His neck arched as he tilted his head, trying to make the contact as deep as possible.

Draco could do nothing more than surrender, one hand braced on the back of the couch and the other cupping Harry’s jaw to align their mouths more intimately. Twisting, arching and manoeuvring, they devoured each other thoroughly.

Harry’s fist tightened in Draco’s hair as he released a loud groan into their kiss. It took an extra set of hands tugging on the buttons of his shirt for Draco to realize there was more going on than kissing. Breathing ragged, he pulled back far enough to see Fred’s hand disappearing under Harry’s arse.

“You want to fuck him?”

Darting his eyes up to meet Fred’s, he felt slightly dizzy and off balance. Things were moving rapidly now, but he’d never been more turned on in his life. He’d also never seen Fred quite so intense. The fun and games had given way to the sheer adrenaline rush of desire.

“Please.” Harry punctuated his plea by twisting at one of Draco’s bared nipples. Pushing his chest forward in an automatic search for more made it even easier for George to tug Draco’s shirt sleeves down his arms.

As George’s impatient hands started on Draco’s belt buckle, Draco understood that he’d lost any sort of control he might have had – and he didn’t want it back. Nobody had ever told him that surrender could be so blissful.

When Fred grabbed the back of Draco’s head and pulled him forward, Draco willingly met him in a kiss, surprised, but lapping at the heat. It was almost as good as kissing Harry, and with that vague thought floating through his dazed mind, he returned his attention to Harry’s mouth.

He shuddered as Harry greedily sucked on his tongue, the sensation accompanied by George’s hand snaking into Draco’s trousers to wrap around his prick. It had been a long time since he’d had any sort of action besides his own hand and they were rapidly sending him into sensory overload.

Pulling away from Harry again, he struggled to catch his breath long enough to say, “Stop.”

It was a token resistance which they ignored. Harry shifted half onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching for Draco’s cock with his other hand. George jerked Draco’s trousers and underwear down to his knees and it wasn’t with a gentle touch that he positioned Draco’s hips until Draco’s cock was sliding down Harry’s throat.

Harry took him in farther than he would’ve expected and the instant, moist heat surrounding his prick made his eyes roll. Fred captured his mouth again and Draco dove into the kiss, wanting everything. A small part of his mind registered George at his back, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his shoulder and running hands over his sides, his arse, under to squeeze his balls and trailing a finger back up the crack, over his hole.

He wasn’t coherent enough to give any decent warning before he came, but he came hard and fast and Harry simply sucked harder, taking it all in. When his hips stopped jerking, he fell backwards, slumping against George, barely aware and certainly not minding who was behind him.

Harry smiled up at him saucily, licking his lips, and Draco smiled weakly in return.

“I’d wanted to fuck you.”

“Oh, you’re still going to fuck me,” Harry said. His saucy smile disappeared and his mouth formed an “o” as he breathed in sharply.

Draco continued to lean against George as they watched Fred finger fuck Harry until Harry was writhing helplessly.

“He looks pretty like that, doesn’t he?” George whispered near Draco’s ear, his hand lazily stroking Draco’s renewed erection.

Eyes remaining riveted on Harry, Draco nodded. He didn’t know when George had lost his clothes, but he could feel George’s cock against his arse. With George’s help, Draco managed to lose the rest of his clothes as well. Fred was naked between Harry’s wide spread legs and if Draco wasn’t so turned on, he’d laugh at the idea that he could _see_ in front of him what he could _feel_ behind him.

The heady smell of sex was strong in the air and Draco could almost swear that it had ensnared the four of them and they wouldn’t be released until their bodies had been thoroughly sated. Not that he remotely had a problem with that. With the way he was feeling at that moment, he wasn’t certain he could ever get enough.

Harry began muttering gibberish, an incoherent plea for _more_. The sounds Harry was making was going to drive Draco over the edge again, along with the help of George’s hand. When Harry managed to produce a few recognizable words, Draco had had enough, pushing away from George.

“Draco . . . nnnngh . . . fuck . . . please . . .”

As Fred and Draco scrambled to change positions, Harry whimpered pitifully until George occupied his mouth. Harry sucked George’s cock greedily, lapping at the head thoroughly between gasping breaths before plunging forward until his nose was buried in kinky curls of red hair.

Draco’s intention had been to use the distraction as an opportunity to calm down a bit before he plunged into Harry full force, but all he could think about was how good Harry’s mouth had felt on him and he watched expectantly, waiting for George to come down Harry’s throat. He wasn’t any less calm, but he was certainly distracted by the sight in front of him.

Draco hissed as Fred’s hand came from seemingly nowhere to grasp his cock, swiftly coating it in slick lubricant. He didn’t know if he was going to last, even after already coming once. Everything about the situation was erotic and intense and it went far beyond his body’s basic reactions.

He was being touched by Fred. He was about to fuck Harry. Harry was sucking George’s cock as if he needed it to survive. But above everything, Harry was his and this was actually happening, no matter how surreal it felt. It was beyond anything he’d ever imagined.

His attention was caught by a bead of sweat trickling down Harry’s temple, noting absently that Harry’s hair was damp and matting to his forehead and he found it oddly sexy. Following an uncontrollable urge, he reached forward to ruffle his fingers through Harry’s hair, pleased when Harry moaned, leaning the slightest bit into his touch.

The vibrations of the moan travelling through George’s cock was enough to trigger his climax. Draco watched Harry’s throat swallowing reflexively for a moment before he shifted focus, pulling Harry’s ankles up onto his shoulders and positioning himself at Harry’s entrance.

Harry wriggled his arse in small circular motions, attempting to stretch and reach and coax Draco forward to suck him in. The puckering arsehole clenched and unclenched, kissing the head of Draco’s cock.

When Harry released George’s slowly softening cock, he turned his head to look up at Draco, eyes dark with desire.

“Please.”

Draco didn’t deny him. He watched as lashes fluttered over green eyes as he sunk into Harry’s arse until his cock was completely buried. His own lashes fluttered, and he knew he’d never felt anything this powerful. It was passionate and raw and he felt like every nerve ending in his body was being stroked intimately.

Harry arched his back even as he pressed his hips up, trying to take Draco even deeper. Even though he’d come recently, Draco knew he wasn’t going to be able to take this slow. Even if he’d been able to, Harry was begging with his body to be taken fast and hard. He’d reached behind him to use the arm of the couch for leverage, pushing back against Draco’s shallow thrusts.

“Hard . . . fuck . . . now . . . please . . .”

Harry was no more coherent than he was earlier, desperate to be fucked and Draco finally obliged, pulling back and thrusting in again hard. After that, there was no turning back and Draco fucked Harry into the couch, snapping his hips against Harry’s arse as he drove himself deep.

He found he wasn’t surprised when Fred took Harry back in his mouth again to finish what he’d started. Harry cried out and within seconds he was pumping Fred’s mouth full of come as his arse convulsed around Draco’s cock. Waiting out the pulses with gritted teeth, Draco focused on Harry’s face twisted in pleasure.

When Harry’s body had relaxed again, Draco resumed his punishing pace until he tipped over into oblivion, spilling his release deep inside Harry. There was only vague recognition that Fred had moved before Draco collapsed on top of Harry, hot and sweaty and extremely satisfied.

Turning his head, he watched George finishing off his brother as he and Harry caught their breath. He could hear Harry’s heart pounding furiously in his ear, and couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. He wasn’t sure how to handle himself now, not used to sappy Gryffindor mush, but certain Harry would be expecting it.

He was surprised into laughing when Harry asked, “Can we go find a bed now?”

Levering himself onto his elbows, he smirked down at an extremely dishevelled Harry. “You already look deliciously debauched. Do you really want to start all over again in a bed?”

“Hell, yeah,” Harry said, his eyes gleaming and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

~*~*~*~

Draco carefully slid out of the bed the next morning; careful because he was sore all over and because he didn’t want to wake up his . . . lover and bed mates. The description would have to do, at least until he could get some coffee and try to sort out this situation. He didn’t particularly want to leave Harry, but he needed some time alone to think.

He watched Harry frown in his sleep before rolling over and pressing up against George, who was, in turn, pressed up against Fred. That alone was enough to give Draco pause. Fred and George shouldn’t be having sex together, and he really didn’t know what to think about the fact that he’d spent the night having wild sex with them and Harry. In the light of day, it was beyond his comprehension.

Snagging some clothes – when did they all end up in his room? – he slipped into the hallway and headed for the shower. The hot water helped immensely and by the time he made it downstairs and had a couple cups of coffee, he was feeling much better physically.

Of course, he still didn’t know what to make of the situation. While he sipped at another cup of coffee, he realized that he didn’t regret anything that had happened. It had been hot and exciting and he just couldn’t find it within to be truly upset about it. But he was a Slytherin and Harry was a Gryffindor. Would Harry regret everything?

And really, exactly how did Harry feel about him? There had been an eavesdropped conversation and sex. It wasn’t like they’d had any serious discussion about . . . well, about anything.

The coffee churned unpleasantly in his stomach as he wondered if Harry had meant everything he’d said. Were the twins just for fun? And more importantly, just what did he mean to Harry?

He was startled out of his thoughts when he heard the dull thumping of footsteps on the stairs and he braced himself for whatever might happen.

Not knowing why he was surprised, he stared at the sight of a rumpled Harry in one of _his_ cashmere jumpers stumbling to the table and flopping into a chair beside him.

“Mornin’,” Harry mumbled sleepily, propping his head on his hand and closing his eyes as he waited for coffee to miraculously appear before him. Which it did, in the form of a grinning Fred waving a mug of the fragrant brew under Harry’s nose before setting it on the table.

Fred retreated to the other side of the table to sit beside George as Harry latched onto the mug with both hands, his eyes still barely open.

Draco couldn’t control his curiosity any longer and asked the single most important question out of all the questions floating through his brain. “Why are you wearing _my_ jumper?”

Harry _blushed_. After all they’d done the night before, now he blushed. “Er, because I wanted to?” he said, turning it into a question.

“Do you collect jumpers as trophies of everyone you’ve fucked?” Draco hadn’t intended the question to sound cruel, but Harry flinched and averted his eyes.

“No,” he said softly. “I was wearing Fred’s yesterday because I was cold and it was reassuring. I was having a bad morning and it was like wearing a piece of home.”

Knowing Harry was upset, Draco still felt compelled to ask. “And mine?”

Harry snuck a peek at Draco through his fringe before returning his attention to his coffee mug, staring into the depths as if it had answers and would speak for him.

“I just felt better wearing it,” he finally admitted. “I didn’t know what you were thinking this morning and you disappeared, so I thought maybe you were regretting everything and . . .,” He shrugged. “Wearing your jumper was reassuring and, besides, it smells like you.”

Finding his courage, he met Draco’s gaze directly. “I can take it off.”

Draco slowly smiled and Harry visibly relaxed.

“No, keep it on. It looks good on you.” He was feeling disturbingly happy and rather mushy and felt the need to do something about it quickly.

“Certainly much better than the fuckwit jumper.”

He ignored Fred’s protests and focused on Harry’s wide, happy grin. Life, however unpredictable, was good.

~~Finite~~


End file.
